Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood

by Abby McDonald

  Hallie bobbed upright again. The beach looked far away now; lights from the houses disappearing with every new swell of waves. She shivered. Her skin was puckering, and the chill of the ocean had finally numbed her enthusiasm for the grand gesture. Time to get back to Uncle Auggie’s, and the miracle of the heated whirlpool tub. Hallie struck out back for shore, half hoping there were some people on the beach to watch her emerge, mermaid-style, from the water. Now, that would make a first impression!

  She swam hard, but the shore didn’t seem to be any closer. Instead, it almost looked as if it were farther away. The tide pulled at her legs, and although she kicked, her limbs felt heavy and slow. For the first time, Hallie realized she was alone, at sea, in the dark. Nobody knew she was out here.

  She tried not to panic.

  “Hello?” she called. Her voice seemed thin, and disappeared on the breeze. “Is anyone there?”

  Hallie kicked again, but her body felt like lead. It was going to be OK, she told herself. She wasn’t going to drown — she couldn’t. She was destined for great things! She was going to —

  A wave broke over her, and for a moment, she was pulled under. Hallie flailed, gasping as she broke the surface. She coughed, terror gripping her fast. “Help!” she called. “Somebody, help me!”

  The water was inky black, nothing but the rolling swells surrounding her. “Somebody!” she cried again. She thought she saw something in the water — a shadow, maybe — before another wave broke hard overhead. This time, she spun underwater for what seemed like hours, until her lungs burned and she wasn’t sure if she was kicking toward the surface or even farther down.

  Then there were arms locked tight around her, and a warm body dragging her to the surface. Hallie spluttered, gasping for air, dizzy. She flailed, but her rescuer held on tight.

  “It’s OK,” he told her, already kicking back toward the shore with powerful strokes. “I’ve got you now. Everything’s going to be OK.”

  Hallie caught a glimpse of dark eyes, and sharp-angled cheekbones. He was beautiful. An angel, she thought faintly. A saint, come to rescue her from certain death.

  And then everything was black.

  His name was Dakota. Dakota Kane. He was nineteen years old, a musician and a poet, and by the time the ER doctor had cleared Hallie with nothing more than a case of mild hypothermia, she knew with utter certainty — he was the man she’d been waiting for her whole life.

  “You saved me,” Hallie breathed, wincing slightly as a nurse pulled out her IV. “I would have drowned!”

  “Don’t think like that.” Dakota squeezed her hand. His hair hung damp in long dark strands almost level with his chin, shirt clinging to his torso under his leather jacket. And those eyes. . . . Hallie gazed at him happily. God, he was beautiful.

  “Are you sure she’s OK to leave?” Dakota asked the nurse. “Is there anything we need to do?”

  We. Hallie thrilled at the word.

  “Just take it easy for a few days, keep warm.” The nurse gave Hallie a thin-lipped look. “No more midnight swimming.”

  “I promise!” Hallie clasped her hands fervently. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble!”

  The nurse moved off. Dakota turned to Hallie with concern. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

  “I’m OK,” she said, shivering slightly. They’d taken her wet clothes, and given her baggy hospital scrubs to wear. She just hoped she looked good in aqua.

  Dakota whipped off his jacket and slung it around her shoulders. “Is there anyone you need to call?”

  Hallie blinked. “Oh, my God, Grace!” She’d been so caught up in the romance of her dramatic rescue that she’d forgotten all about the people waiting for her, back at the party. “My sister,” she explained hurriedly. “She won’t know where I am.”

  Dakota offered her his cell phone. Hallie dialed, then hesitated. “She’ll be really mad. . . .”

  “I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” Dakota took the phone back. “Hey, is this Grace?” He gave Hallie a reassuring smile, and then retreated to the hallway to talk.

  Hallie waited until he was out of sight and then leaped up, dashing to the tiny bathroom. Dear Lord. She blinked in horror at her bedraggled reflection. This was her destiny out there, and she was looking like a drowned stray cat! She spun into action: finger-combing her no-longer-so-relaxed hair and swiping under her eyes to clear the streaks of mascara.

  “Hallie?”

  She gave her hair a final pat with the paper towels and reemerged. “I told her what happened,” Dakota said, tucking his phone away. “I said I’d take you home.”

  “Thank you. I mean, for everything. If you hadn’t been there . . .” The thought of those cruel, insistent waves, and how close she’d come to death, was overwhelming. She felt her legs buckle. In an instant, Dakota was by her side.

  “Everything’s going to be OK,” he promised, holding her upright. “I’ve got you.”

  Hallie sank against him, banishing the dark thoughts to the very back of her mind. It was over now, the darkness before the dawn. Her pain had served its purpose, and brought him into her life.

  Destiny.

  “So I’ve got to ask,” Dakota said as they headed toward the exit — Hallie leaning close against the warmth of his body. “What were you doing out there?”

  “You’ll think I’m crazy.” Hallie blushed.

  “Never. Go on, tell me.” His face was open, curious, and in that moment, Hallie was flooded with a strange sense of reassurance — like she could tell him anything and he’d understand.

  “I was doing a kind of ritual,” Hallie explained. “Like a baptism, to start my new life here.”

  She waited for the laugh of derision, but instead, Dakota gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Venus rising from the ocean . . .”

  “Exactly!”

  Dakota led her through the main doors, then paused a moment on the asphalt, as if he were deciding something. “I burned it,” he told her finally. “I drove cross-country, moving out here, and when I reached the ocean, I burned the map.”

  “Because it didn’t matter how you got here,” Hallie said, understanding completely.

  “A fresh start,” Dakota finished. Their eyes met. The fluorescent lights overhead cast sharp shadows across the angle of his cheekbones; his hair dried in a halo of dark curls. Hallie had to stifle a sigh of pure longing.

  “I better get you home,” Dakota said, and Hallie could almost convince herself that was regret she heard in his voice. “Come on.”

  She followed him to his beat-up Camry. She would have followed him anywhere. It was past two a.m. by the time Dakota pulled up in front of Uncle Auggie’s. Inside, every light was blazing. “I’m sorry.” Hallie braced herself for what was to come.

  “For what?” Dakota helped her out of the car.

  “You’ll see.”

  They hadn’t even stepped more than a foot inside before Hallie’s mom raced out to meet them in the front hall; Amber hurrying behind.

  “My baby!” Her mom clutched her in a frenzied hug. “What happened? Are you OK? If I lost you too . . .”

  “Grace called and said you were missing,” Amber added, wide-eyed. She was wearing a tiny pink negligee, her curves barely concealed under a sheer white robe. “We didn’t know what to think. Auggie’s on the phone with the police now. He was about to have them send divers out!”

  “You should have told someone before you wandered off.” Grace’s voice came from behind them. She was loitering at the back of the hall with Brandon, glaring at Hallie accusingly. “Didn’t you stop to think for one moment we would worry?”

  “Are you OK?” Brandon asked, moving to her side. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes, clearly exhausted. “We searched the party for hours.”

  “She’s fine,” Dakota told them as Hallie detached herself from the anxious hugs. “The doctor checked her out, everything’s OK. She just needs rest and recovery.”

>   They all turned.

  “This is Dakota,” Hallie announced, beaming. “He saved me.”

  Dakota gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Anyone would have helped, it was just lucky I heard her —”

  “Nonsense!” Uncle Auggie came bursting through the crowd. He clasped Dakota in a hug, slapping his back enthusiastically. “You’re the hero of the hour! We owe you.”

  “No, really, it’s nothing.” Dakota turned to look at Hallie. “It’s enough that she’s OK.”

  Hallie felt her legs buckle again. This time, it had nothing to do with her ordeal, and everything to do with the intensity of his expression. “Do you want to stay?” Hallie asked hopefully. “Have some coffee, maybe, or —”

  “It’s been a long night,” he cut her off, with a gentle smile. “You should get some rest.”

  Her mom must have seen Hallie’s disappointment, because she blocked Dakota’s path to the exit. “Tomorrow, then,” Valerie declared. “She’ll be rested then. You can come by anytime.”

  For once, Hallie didn’t care about her mom’s interference, because Dakota smiled at Hallie. “Definitely.” He turned to the rest of them with a polite nod. “Good night.”

  The door closed behind him. There was a pause, and then Hallie was smothered in an avalanche of voices.

  “My poor baby!”

  “Isn’t he cute?”

  “God, could you be any more self-centered? We were all worried sick!”

  Hallie ignored them all, gazing after Dakota. “I’m going to bed,” she said dreamily. His jacket was still draped around her shoulders, smelling faintly of smoke and spices and him. “See you all in the morning.”

  “Hallie!” Grace squawked in annoyance.

  “The doctor said I need to rest.” She wandered back through the house, leaving the crowd of chatter behind. Let them be dramatic and have their big scene, she had more important things to think about.

  Like the new love of her life.

  As promised, Dakota dropped by to see her the next morning, and found Hallie reclining on a shaded lounge chair by the pool in her best sundress, her hair painstakingly straightened into a glossy sheet. She’d been there since nine, just to be safe — arranged at what she hoped was a pretty angle, clutching her copy of Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, but too excited to focus on a single sentence. Every time the gate clattered open, she couldn’t help but whip her head around to check. Since it was Julio’s day to prune the roses, Hallie’s neck ached by the time Dakota finally strolled up the garden path, but just the sight of him — black jeans and a V-neck shirt, hair ruffled in windswept curls — made her forget even the minor tendon ache.

  “He’s here!” she breathed. Grace — seated beside her, stealing mango from her restorative fruit platter — rolled her eyes.

  “You don’t say.”

  Hallie ignored her. “Hi!” she called as he sauntered closer. “I completely forgot you were coming over.”

  Grace snorted. Hallie shot her a warning look.

  “Hey.” Dakota leaned down to kiss her cheek — the L.A. way, as Hallie was learning — and then presented her with a small posy of flowers. “I picked these. And for you, too,” Dakota added, passing another posy to Grace.

  Grace’s expression softened in surprise. “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Grace can’t stay,” Hallie said quickly, sending her a pleading look. “She’s busy, right?”

  Grace glanced back and forth between Hallie and Dakota, before finally giving Hallie a begrudging smile. “Right.” She got up. “But thanks for these.”

  “That was sweet,” Hallie told him as Grace headed back into the guesthouse. “I bet she’s never gotten flowers before.”

  “I know they’re not fancy or anything . . .” Dakota trailed off, eyes going to the excessive display of orchids Brandon had brought over earlier, perched in a cut-glass bowl in the middle of the table.

  “No, I love them!” Hallie exclaimed. “Wild flowers are better than stuffy florist bouquets, they’re so pretty. Natural.” She yanked Brandon’s flowers out of the water and tossed them aside, arranging Dakota’s posy in their place. “There.”

  Dakota folded himself onto the lounger next to hers and picked up Hallie’s book. “He’s one of my favorites,” Hallie explained quickly. She’d almost picked out Kerouac, but figured Dakota would be more of a modern, edgy guy.

  She was right. Dakota’s smile got wider. “Me too!” He flipped through the dog-eared pages. “I read this years ago, but I lost my copy.” He passed it back to her. “Maybe I could borrow it when you’re done?”

  “Take it now,” Hallie insisted. “I’ve read it tons of times.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Hallie pushed it into his hands. “Then you can tell me what you think.”

  “Our own private book club,” Dakota suggested with another heart-stopping grin, and Hallie had to stifle a sigh.

  He was still perfect.

  She’d known he would be, of course she had, but in the two hours she’d been waiting there, a tiny niggle of doubt had crept into Hallie’s mind. What if she’d been suffering some post-traumatic stress episode brought on via saltwater inhalation — built him up in her mind to unfathomable heights — and in the cold harsh light of day he turned out to be nothing more than a wannabe rock star with a taste for dirty denim?

  But he was there, beside her now, just as magnificent as she’d remembered. More so, even, because her memory couldn’t contain the intensity that radiated from him, or the dark mischief in his eyes. . . .

  “Yooo-hooo!” Amber’s high-pitched voice echoed across the lawn. She was on the back patio, phone to her ear. “Don’t you two move,” she called. “I’ll be right out!” She waved, then disappeared back inside.

  Hallie gulped. “You know, I’m feeling kind of restless.” She turned to Dakota. “And I should really take the dogs out.” He didn’t miss a beat.

  “How about a walk?” he suggested, a knowing smile tugging the edge of his lips.

  They strolled the leafy streets for hours: Marilyn and Monroe scampering at their heels, Hallie’s hand tucked in the crook of Dakota’s arm like they were an old-fashioned couple. They talked about everything she could think of — words tumbling out in an excited stream. She couldn’t help herself, she needed to know everything about him.

  “High school,” Hallie demanded.

  Dakota made a face. “Endless. Frustrating. Limited. Done.”

  She laughed. “Me too.”

  “No way,” he told her. “You were the most popular girl in school, I can tell. Homecoming queen. Most likely to succeed, all that stuff.”

  “No!” Hallie protested. He gave her a dubious look. “Well, OK, maybe I was popular,” she admitted, “but that didn’t mean it mattered to me. I always felt . . . different. Like the things I wanted, they’d never understand.”

  “Like what?” Dakota turned.

  She exhaled. “To . . . matter. To have people know my name. To leave a mark on the world!” She stopped, self-conscious. “It sounds, conceited, I know, but it’s not like that. I just mean, we’re all so small, and life is so fleeting; I don’t want to just be gone, and have there be nothing left of me, you know?”

  “I do.” Dakota smiled slowly. “It’s why I write. So somebody out there can know I exist. So I can reach them.”

  “I mean, imagine twenty years from now, someone watching a movie with me in it, or listening to one of your songs. Not even here,” Hallie added excitedly, “but in England, or China, or somewhere. That they would know who we are, that we existed! Instead of just . . .”

  “Fading away,” Dakota finished. “My parents think it’s crazy, to just move out here and try to be, what, a rock star?”

  “But it’s not!” Hallie insisted. “I think it’s crazy to just sit around, and not try to make your dreams happen. Think about spending your whole life wondering, What if?”

  “They don’t get it!” he agreed. “My dad works a
factory gig, just slaving away ten hours a day, and for what? A paycheck that’s gone by the end of the month? I want more than that.”

  “You are more than that,” Hallie told him, breathless. He understood. He understood her. “We both are.”

  He stopped walking, and with a flash of disappointment, Hallie realized they were back outside Uncle Auggie’s mansion. The dogs yapped, impatient. “I’m really glad I met you,” Dakota said, almost shyly. “Not that you nearly drowned,” he added quickly. “But, you know.”

  Hallie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Me and the guys are playing a gig Friday night, over in Hollywood.” Dakota looked hopeful. “I can put you on the list if you feel up to coming?”

  “I’d love to!” Hallie exclaimed. “But . . .”

  Dakota waited. “What?”

  “It’s just . . . Friday is a long way away.” She felt her cheeks flush. But she couldn’t help it! The thought of a whole week passing before she could see him again? Unfathomable!

  Dakota must have agreed, because he grinned. “You’ll need to build your strength back up, like the doctor said. How about another walk? Tomorrow?”

  “Perfect.” Hallie sighed with happiness. And he was.

  Dakota came to visit the next day, and every day that week, bringing Hallie a new gift each afternoon. A copy of his last demo CD; a ripe peach; a single blush-pink peony. Hallie lined them up on her bedroom windowsill like trophies — evidence that their time together was real, that he was real, and not conjured out of her imagination after a lifetime of idle daydreaming and sheer longing.

  Because he was so right for her. Sensitive, thoughtful, artistic, intense . . . Since the night he pulled her from the cruel ocean — so brave! so heroic! — she’d been in a constant state of nervous anticipation, adrenaline jittering through her system at the mere thought of him. And when they were together . . . Hallie would have sworn that the world disappeared. This was what love felt like, she was sure of it.